


Cut away

by PunxFox



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ramsay is His Own Warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 17:18:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17166053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunxFox/pseuds/PunxFox
Summary: Ramsay Bolton finally meets a girl who not only doesn't fear him, but understands the madness in his head. He plays his games, and she cuts away until his heart is bleeding for her.





	Cut away

Of all the days to be sunny and beautiful, it's the day that Emma's father chose to give her to another man's family in exchange for protection. The McIlvalry house may be small, but they are feared and respected. Their banners hang black with a severed mans head on them, half his face skinned and bloody. The world chooses to ignore the madmen that live at the McIlvalry Keep because they assume they're made of just that, men. Had they known of the women they would have burned it to the ground long ago.  
Emma paced the battlements angrily, twirling a thin blade between slim fingers, two of her pets standing by patiently waiting for their mistress to be done her aggravated stroll, pleased none of them were under work of her knife. She didn't seem threatening, small and slender frame almost delicately wrapped in blue. Her silver cloak stood bold against the stone and black banners, as did her flowing chestnut hair. She gazed out to the road again, and paused when she saw banners flapping the the breeze. A flayed man on a cross.  
"Come pets, time to go have one last word with my father in hopes of stopping this stupid wedding." She huffed, voice angelic and high with the spirit of a thousand burning souls behind it. Her two pets followed her, close by but just out of arms reach. She walked away as the gates opened, and heard the announcement of their guests, the great house Bolton come to steal a prized broodmare. Bitterness rose in her throat as she burst into the hall.  
"Father!"  
"There you are, I was almost worried you'd decided to leave before they got here." Her father called from his chair.  
"You're sat here, drinking wine while some twat and his son come to cart me off to some boring castle where I'll have to sit and pretend like I give a single fuck about some fat ugly lord I'm forced to call my husband. You're sat in your chair while I'm waiting to be hauled off and breed like a bitch in my kennels. You sit here, knowing who I am and what I'm capable of, what I've been capable of since I was seven and you dare act like it's funny to joke that I want to leave? I will have your skull mounted on my hearth if you dare act like I'm some prissy cunt again!" She roared, knife still in hand and her knuckles white on its wooden hilt. There was a booming knock on the door behind her, while the soldier announced the arrival of the Bolton house. Emma's chest still pounded with hate but she sheathed her blade and quickly joined her father's side to present to her new husband. The doors swung open, and men in black entered. Emma made a very singular decision to not look at her betrothed in the second she saw Lord Bolton. She gazed hard at his belt and his sword, listened to her father welcome them, and then gave her greeting while counting the threads on his cloak. Her curiosity peeked when she heard a deep velvet voice say hello, but the Lord's chest did not move. Her constitution broke and she glanced at him, and then the hall went silent. Every servant tensed and every man of the Manor gave a sharp inhale and gazed down when they saw her eyes lock onto Ramsay Bolton. Her shoulders were squared, her face grew sharp but inside her heart melted.  
'What in all the gods is wrong with me, he's just a man.' She thought, but he looked as uncomfortable and annoyed as she was. His dark hair tossed, eyes bluer than the sky but with all the cold of winter, lips a soft, gentle rose and a jaw sharper than the blade at her side. He looked tall, strong with broad shoulders and solid legs. There was no hint of softness at his middle, he looked hard and rough. She felt her body heat in a way she'd never known. He looked dangerous, wild, maybe even mad, yet positively delightful.  
She saw his cold eyes trace her, catch her pinkened cheeks and emerald eyes and almost as if she was dreaming, the softest of reds flooded his cheeks and neck. She snapped back to the hall when her father called her to speak.  
"Pleased to meet you Lord Bolton and guests. My name is Emilia McIlvalry, and I look forward to spending more time with you all in the coming days. Now, if it's not too much, I'd like to say it's time for dinner. Please, have a seat, the meal will be in shortly. Lord Bolton, you're welcome at the high table with your son." She announced, her voice dripping sweet and her words kind with cold eyes.  
Lord Bolton, whose name she found out over supper was Roose, came and sat next to her father while the handsome stranger slid into the chair next to her's.  
"I know we had our formal meeting, but I'm Ramsay. It's a pleasure to meet you beautiful." He leaned close to her and tilted his head to whisper in her ear, while the hall filled with quite murmuring.  
"The pleasure is mine Ramsay, and you can call me Emma, only my father calls me Emilia." She simpers, and sees a gentle chill run through him. 'Like a toy' she thinks. She can play him like a toy.  
The meal comes and goes, they all drink wine and eat their fill of meat, both Emma and Ramsay devouring nearly raw deer while their fathers and guests eat well cooked chunks. They exchange glances, but don't speak again until the end of the night.  
Emma pulls him down a small hallway, away from the servants and guests and any other prying ears.  
"I must say, you're not what I expected, Ramsay Bolton." Emma purrs, rubbing her hands over his chest. His hands find her waist and move slowly down.  
"Neither are you. I thought I was getting some fat whore, imagine my surprise when I saw you standing there, bold and beautiful. I nearly took you there on the floor." He grinned, showing off a brilliant smile with danger etched into it. His eyes looked bright and sharp, and Emma couldn't help but feel a wildness creep from inside her chest.  
"You're to be mine, and I'm to be yours, so why don't we have a bit of fun. Do you like games, dear Ramsay?" She whispered, and suddenly he was kissing her hard and fierce, his hands on her hips moving to her face and holding her tenderly. She gripped his hair and placed a hand on his cheek, and as he broke for air she couldn't contain herself and bit at his full bottom lip, drawing it into her mouth and sucking for a moment before releasing and giggling.  
"I'll take that as a yes, my handsome dear. So here's the game. If you don't want to see any more you ask to leave and I win. If you enjoy it, you win. And if you win, you can fuck me before our wedding night. You can fuck me every night until then."  
"Well then, it sounds like I'm going to like this very much." Ramsay chuckles, so Emma kisses him hard on last time then pulls him down the hallway until they reach a large iron door. Past the other doors and all try he tapestrys of ancient victories, and she opens it. Inside the room are two more doors and a small library. She walks to the door to the left, opens it to a staircase and pauses.  
"Remember dear, you tell no one of this place or you'll end up here too." She grins, fire in her eyes making Ramsay feel warm inside, like his heart might actually exist. He feels it beating hard, and his cock grows hard at the prospect of fucking this beautiful, tiny little girl that could possibly be as dangerous as him.  
"Not a word, my lady." He promises, so she laces her fingers though his and starts the decent. He smells something familiar, the deeper they go the more at home he feels until he suddenly realizes why. They're in a dungeon, equipped with knives and scalpels any kind of torture device imaginable, even more than he had in his own stores. He spun slowly, seeing what used to be a man on the rack, oozing blood and brain onto the floor. Ramsay turns to Emma and sees a wild grin and a knife in her hand. For a second, he's almost afraid, but then he realizes that he's won. He laughs, boisterous and full.  
"This place is amazing! You've got so many good tools! Look at these, sharp and simple things. This is truly a beautiful sight to me, I can't wait to show you mine." He grins, baring his teeth and feeling his chest expand, and seeing Emma almost take on a second light, a glow that only he can see and would kill to keep alive.  
"Now, little one, it seems I've won. And I want my prize right here." Emma seems shocked, then she smiles, truly smiles. She removes her cloak, then unties her dress and let's it slip to the floor.  
"You have no idea how badly I wanted this. For you to not scream or vomit, to understand the beauty in blood and bone. If anyone was to be my husband, thank the gods that they gave me you." 

 

-scene to follow


End file.
